♡ M I L A ♡
Sunlight filters in, painting streaks of warmth over the silk sheets tangled around my legs. The softness beneath me makes me want to linger a little bit longer, but I've got to get to the office today. I let out a low groan and force my heavy eyelids open, the effort is monumental as I focus on the ornate plasterwork ceiling above me... wait a minute, this isn't my ceiling... and the walls, they're painted a shade of gray. What the heck! I frown.
I squint my eyes to take in more of my surroundings. A king-sized bed dominates the room, and a desk sits in the far corner. Where the heck am I? As I try to remember, a searing pain shoots up in my head, causing me to grit my teeth and let out another stifled groan. The room spins just a fraction, and the fragments of the night before are elusive, teasing at the edges of my consciousness. I believe there was a lot of dancing, the taste of wine, the clink of glasses, the blur of faces and press of bodies moving in time, and laughter - so much laughter - the overwhelming sensations only make my headache worse, and I feel nauseated.
I should have known better than to drown myself in alcohol.
Ah, yes, those shots were such a brilliant idea. Who knew they could have such lethal effects?
But hey, at least now you have a killer hangover to show for it.
I wince at my inner self's ability to be sarcastic as I hold my pounding head and grunt incoherently, feeling the consequences of my wild night.
But seriously, where am I? This isn't even my room.
I roll over; the motion is languid, unhurried, when I feel a weight beside me. I freeze and turn slowly to the side, feeling my heart racing, and for a moment there, I forget about the nausea that had been plaguing me seconds ago as my gaze slides over to the sight of a guy - a really hot, tall, and muscular guy with no shirt on - sprawled on the bed facedown and with one arm flung over a fluffy pillow. His skin is adorned with black ink tattoos.
Wow, it must have been a wild night for me to end up in bed with a guy like him.
I can't seem to find words... any words to express what this weird feeling inside me is. I don't even scream. I'm just too stunned, staring wide-eyed at him who draws my attention like gravity, and a fuzzy memory of a scowl, of a voice that pulled me closer flickers in my mind... so that wasn't a dream, but a reality, stark and as tangible as the soft fabric against my skin.
Huh?
I look down.
It's a shirt, not my green dress.
I'm swathed in a light blue crisp shirt that isn't mine, smelling faintly of cologne and something else-something comforting. I almost have a faint smile on my lips when I catch a glimpse of my dress neatly folded on the couch.
What!?
Is he some sort of a neat freak?
Does he clean before engaging in... another realization jolts through me, a current of alarm.
Did I really sleep with him? On cue, I lift the covers, my hands trembling, and a sigh escapes me.
Oh, thank goodness! I still have my underwear on. I am momentarily relieved, but then panic flutters within my chest again, and a torrent of questions tumbles through my mind, leaving me feeling lost and confused.
So... nothing happened?
My mind races as I try to make sense of the situation.
Then why is he shirtless beside me? And how did we really end up here?
